


Saudade

by MoroseAlacrity



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, It's not all sad, Mental Illness, Mental Institutions, Multi, Suicide, believe it or not, there will be some cutesy fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoroseAlacrity/pseuds/MoroseAlacrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Make sure to eat. Participate in activities. Smile, though not too much. Interact with others. Take your medication. Don't cause any trouble. Pretend that the employees weren't watching your every single move. And Above all: At the end of the day, when you talk to whichever psychiatrist you've been assigned to, slowly but surely pretend to be healing. Those were the rules to being contained here for only three days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Save Up All the Days

"When did you first notice that you felt like this?" 

I there for quite some time as I mulled over the question.  _When did I start to feel like this?_ My hands were shaking as he tried to hold them steady in my lap. I studied them intently while I searched for my response. I already knew the answer to the question, though putting it into words would be my own special little hell.  The back sides of my trembling hands were adorned with a plethora of red marks that gave them a blotchy appearance. They were caked in dirt and blood, and it made me cringe. The large amount of grime allowed me to see every crease and every pore on my skin. It almost looked like a map of a poorly planned out city. I moved on to look at his fingernails now. The free edges harbored clumps of mud, so they looked black. I sighed and glanced at the dull throbbing near the base of my right thumb. The dark maroon signaled the beginnings of a bruise, though the pain of that was nothing compared to the scratches that made my palms sting.

It wasn't until I saw a teardrop splash down on my wrist when when finally looked up. My vision was blurred, so it was only safe to assume that the tears have been welling in my eyes for a while now. This wasn't like me. I don't cry, especially not in front of people, and most importantly,  _never_ in front of strangers. Yet it seemed that by this point, I was too far gone. There was no stopping the now steady stream of tears from falling down my face. I chewed on his lip in a final attempt to avoid the question before me.

"Levi," the person who sat in the desk in front of him leaned forward as she spoke. Her brown hair was pulled back into a scruffy pony tail, and her glasses were situated atop her head. Her shirt was covered in wrinkles, and so were the corners of her eyes. She didn't seem that old, so the crinkling of her skin must have been caused by her smile. It was genuine enough, though it was definitely strained. Overall, she looked disheveled. But, at the moment, who was I to talk? 

I exhaled a raggedy breath as I let my gaze fall down to the bronze nameplate that sat proudly near the edge of the desk. "Dr. Hanji Zoe". A few fingerprints ruined the luster, though nothing a bit of polish couldn't fix - 

"Please. I know it's hard, though you've got to try."

Try. You've got to try. I hated those words more than anyone would ever understand. I'd be lying if I said that I've never before uttered that phrase. I have. I have, and it will haunt him for the rest of my life. A life that I tried to end nearly twenty hours ago.

"Oh, Levi, please don't scratch yourself like that."

I raised an eyebrow and looked down to my wrist. Sure enough, I was scratching at it. I had even managed to draw blood. I sighed and folded my arms below my chest. Hopefully that would stop anymore of my apparent nervous habits from continuing. "Junior year," I tried to speak in my usual leveled voice, though my silent crying betrayed my pain.

Hanji nodded slowly and began to write on her notepad. "Was it out of the blue, or did something happen?" Her brow furrowed before she looked up and studied me closely. She pushed a box of tissues my way, but I wasn't about to take them. I felt that any sort of movement on my part would release the floodgates that I've been trying so hard to keep up. 

"That's when-" my voice cracked and I looked down at my lap once more. My mouth quivered at the memory of Junior year. It was only a year ago, but it seemed so far away.

"That's when Petra died?" 

Those words had knocked the wind out of me. My muscles tensed and I made eye contact with Hanji once more. I could feel myself glaring, though the anger wasn't directed towards her. I wanted to tell her that, to let her know that it wasn't her fault, but I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, who knew what would happen. I'd lose it. For now, I clenched my jaw and nodded. 

"I'm sorry for your loss. Is that why you're here today? Your parents had mentioned it earlier."

Partially. Her death triggered something I've been hiding all my life. It had opened these doors that led me into a world of pain and misery. Blaming Petra was something I could never do. It was out of the question. With a heavy heart, I shook my head to signal "no". 

"Then please, tell me why. The more you tell, the more we can help," Dr. Zoe's eyebrows raised, which  only added to her 'I desperately want to help you' look. I know that it's rude of me to be judging people, especially when they're trying to help. But where was this help when I still had a chance at recovery? Was almost dying a prerequisite to being worthy of assistance? I was fucked up, and so were countless others. When you're in a dark place, no one believes you until you do something drastic. I didn't want help anymore. I wanted to die. I wanted to be six feet under, and I wanted to be done. 

I was still crying, that much I knew. Though, my tears weren't just made from sorrow. They now held grief, heartache, and even a sense of  _failiure._ I was done with talking. I couldn't take it anymore. Hanji seemed to take the hint, so she clicked her pen and stood up. She stepped over to a bookshelf and pulled out a generic composition notebook. She then walked over to me and held it out for me to grab. I eyed the notebook dubiously. 

"I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but I think it's best if you stay here. At least for seventy-two hours."

I sighed and buried my face in my hands. Hanji began to speak of rules, regulations, and what's to be expected during my stay. Little did she know, and perhaps for the better, that I've already heard all of this before. Not from a firsthand experience, but from Petra herself. Before everything went further south than I could have ever imagined, she was sitting in a hospital. Just like I am now. They kept her for three days, and then sent her home with a prescription. She had told me everything that happened, and she even said that she felt better after it was all over. She had felt better...

"Alright? I promise, we're going to do everything we can here," Hanji's smile never seemed to leave her face. She even seemed enthusiastic. "We'll meet every day to talk. But at the end of each day, I want you to use this notebook," she held it out for me with an encouraging nod. "Draw in it, write in it, do whatever you want. Anything that you can't tell me in person will go in here, okay?"

With still shaking hands, I reached out and grabbed it. Hanji seemed pleased with this. The second I took the notebook from her grasp, she turned and sat back down in her chair. She picked up the phone and called a nurse. Once she pressed the phone back onto the receiver, she looked at me with hopeful eyes.

"Levi, we're going to help you. I promise."

I didn't have the energy to respond. I felt like a corpse. When the nurse finally arrived, I was forced to stand up and follow him out of Hanji's office. The second I laid eyes on the him, I almost broke down. I wanted to curl up and die right there on the spot. Not that I didn't want to die earlier today, but this nurse was just the icing on the most bittersweet cake in the world. He reminded me of someone. Tall with dirty blond hair. Broad shoulders, blue eyes that held a certain level of concern in them. I forced myself to stop thinking about it while we walked around the hospital.  As I followed him around in my dazed state, I decided to block out the majority of his words. I didn't feel bad for doing so. If I were to give him my full attention, I'd lose it for sure. He led me through a series of hallways all while telling me about the place. Caring. Safe. Home. All words that he had used to describe the hospital. Everything here was either white or blue, and everything was sterile. Which was nice. He showed me the dining hall that doubled as the recreational area, the bathrooms, and the wing that I'd be staying in. I was told, yet again, about all of the rules and the daily routines. 

Once the tour was over, I was taken to my room.

It was your average hospital room, nothing too fancy. It had two neatly made beds, a single window, and one desk. There were two chests of drawers, and that was it. It was bare, though what did it matter? I didn't plan on staying here for too long.

"You don't have a roommate, not yet. That could change at any time, though," the nurse shrugged.

"Oh," I sighed and searched the room for a ticking noise. I'm not religious, not one bit. Despite this, I found myself nearly praying that the ticking sound was a clock. Sure enough, a small clock was mounted on the wall next to the window. That clock would most likely become my new best friend.

"Your folks should be bringing you some basic necessities here pretty soon."

"Alright," I intentionally kept my eyes away from the nurse. He looked _too_ much like- someone I ~~knew~~ had known. I laid myself down on the bed and curled up. I could feel the tears starting again. I almost killed myself a few hours ago, yet it was here when I finally admitted to myself that I've lost it. I tried to keep quiet, I really did. Despite my best efforts to drop the topic, I asked the nurse for his name.

"Harold."

Harold. Not even close. I'm not sure if I felt even more depressed or slightly reassured when he said Harold. When I didn't say anything else, Harold decided to say goodbye and leave. He shut the door behind him, and I was thankful for that. I needed time to be alone. I looked at the notebook beside me, and for whatever reason, I opened it. The notebook was nothing special, though it did have a single black crayon taped to the inside. What? They couldn't trust us with pencils or pens? Honestly, that was probably wise of them. My belongings, along with my shoelaces, were confiscated once I was brought to this level of the hospital, so I don't really know what I was expecting.

My new best friend caught my attention. It was only 8:30 at night. If I fell asleep right now, surely I'd wake up at three in the morning. Begrudgingly, I sat myself up and began to write.

_I can't describe how I feel._

I rubbed my face before I continued.

_Everyone thinks that this happened because of Petra. Honestly, it was like this since I was nine years old. I just pretended that things were okay. When she died, I stopped pretending._

I fiddled with the crayon for a moment as I thought about everything. 

I stopped writing. Sure, I've felt like this for a while, but that wasn't exactly why I was here. I do believe that these feelings led up to the events that put me in here, but my fucked up brain wasn't the sole reason. It was the people I met. The adventures I went on. Everything that had happened to me over this last year is the reason why I'm here. I'm not a sob story, and I refused to be seen as one. I wasn't weak, and I didn't want to be perceived that way. I'm here because I'm a basket case that failed. I failed at taking my own life, and that's why I was here. That's the _only_ reason I'm here. Not because of how I felt, not because of Petra, not because of -- _stop thinking about it._  I was here because of my actions. It was my fault I was locked up in a hospital's psych ward.

There was a snapping sound. I looked down at my hand and realized that I broke my crayon. I guess that's enough writing for tonight. My hands were still covered in filth, so I decided to wash them. I stood up, and only then did I notice how sore I was. I contemplated lying back down and just going straight to sleep, but I knew I'd regret it in the morning. Briskly, I made my way to the bathrooms. I ignored everyone I passed on the way there. I wasn't here to make friends with psychopaths.

There was another man in the bathroom. He was reading a bible while sitting in a urinal. At least his pants were on. With an eye roll, I made my way to one of the mirrors above the sink. My reflection was cringe worthy, and ultimately, disturbing. My hair was going many different ways, and there was dust in it. My face held many scratches, and one side had faint streaks of dirt on it. It looked like someone had attempted to rub the grime off of me, but whoever it was didn't get very far. My eyes had dark lines under them, and they were blood-shot. They were puffy, and they held little to no emotion. They were vacant. 

In all reality, I should have taken a shower, but that wasn't going to fly. The showers only worked during certain hours. It was then when I caught onto the fact that there's no freedom in this place. After my stunning realization, I decided to make do with what I had; though what I had was just a simple sink and some hand soap. I don't know how long I was in the bathroom, but I did know that the man sitting on the toilet had hardly moved an inch the whole time I was there. The only reason I knew that he was alive was his occasional turning of the page. I guess I had ended up staring at him through the mirror, with a disgusted look no doubt, because he ended up staring right back at me. He lifted his eyes from the pages ever so slowly and watched me with an unblinking stare. 

"Fucking creep," I narrowed my eyes and gave my face one last wipe with a paper towel. I tossed it in the trash and walked out of the bathroom. When I shut the door, I heard a loud thud. He probably just dropped his book or something. I wasn't going to give it another thought until he unleashed the most senile cackle I've ever heard. It was unnerving, and it made me feel sick. I cast my gaze forward and made my way back to my room. For the second time tonight, I ignored everyone. I wasn't in the mood to talk. I just wanted to serve my three day sentence in this god-forsaken jail of a hospital and leave.

 

 


	2. A Routine Malaise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a fucking alpaca that people can just load their problems on to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping that this chapter will better set the overall idea of the story :] There's more characterization in this chapter than there was in the previous one.

Despite the low position of the sun, it was warm. We had searched all day for the absolute tallest hill in the town, and we eventually found it right outside of the city limits. At the outermost edge of the horizon sat the city's local college, and right behind it sat the sun. It was an incredible sight, it really was. The pale colors of the sky made the bustling city below them look peaceful. I could have stared at it for hours.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

I raised an eyebrow and turned my head away from the city to see Petra grinning. We were both sitting down on the ground, but Petra had a small blanket beneath her. She then laughed and took a bite out of the burrito that she was holding in her hands. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand before looking out at the city with a content sigh. 

"We should have done this sooner," she nodded and looked down at her food. 

"It's alright. Hispter days just aren't really my thing," I shrugged and begin to unwrap the foil that was around my burrito. Hipster Day, as we called it, was inspired by Petra's favorite book.  _The Perks of Being a Wallflower._ She always told me how she envied the freedom that the characters seemed to have. How they could just stand up through a sunroof and feel 'infinite', how they could go to a diner and eat together... Despite the main character's issues, the world of that story was a lax one. I myself never liked that book - it was too surreal for me. Nevertheless, the movie was coming out in September, and Petra was just about to explode with excitement. In honor of her soon to be favorite movie, we decided to have a day dedicated to doing hipster things.

We started with a walk along the river, then we followed that up with ice cream. Later that day, we ended up at a lake and Petra had jumped right in. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't get me to go in with her. In my defense I didn't want to smell like fish all day. After that, Petra had mentioned wanting to see the sunset and stars, so we drove all over the city in search of the perfect spot. The search lasted for three hours, and we were hungry, so we stopped to get some food. In spirit of Hipster Day, we settled on Chipotle. Eventually, we found the hill that we were on now, and it was time to feast. The food was actually better than I'd expected it to be, so we sat in silence while we enjoyed our burritos.

"Are you nervous?" Petra wiped her face with her napkin as she finished chewing.

I was mid-bite when she asked me that, so I shrugged and finished what I had before answering her. "About what?"

"School. Junior year starts next week..." she sighed and closed her eyes. "I know I am."

I yawned and looked at a nearby tree. "I don't see why we have to be nervous. We've already been through two years of high school, so what makes this one any different?"

Petra nodded slowly as she thought the words over. A smile slowly began to work it's way on her face, and her nods grew more enthusiastic. "Alright, Levi. You're right. Why should this year be any different?" She laughed then pointed up at the sky. "Oh, look, the stars are coming out!" Her smile was an authentic one. I could tell by the way her eyes were shining as she gazed at the few stars that began to dot the sky. There was a peaceful air around us, and it was fantastic.

And that was the last time I remember seeing my best friend truly happy.

Was I crying again? God damn it. I brought my blanket covered hand up to my face and I wiped my eyes. When I looked at my _new_ best friend, I learned that it was only 6:37 in the morning. If I remembered correctly, the day here begins at 7:30. I had plenty of time to think, and that scared me. The notebook that Hanji gave me sat on the set of drawers near my bed, but I wasn't about to go get it. This room was cold and I didn't want to leave the warmth of my blanket. No matter how starchy it was. I zoned out for at least five minutes before I looked back at the clock. 6:38.  _Fuck,_ it was going to be a long day. I counted all the tiles in the ceiling. Clock - 6:41. I counted all of the finger smudges on the window. New best friend - 6:47.  _Progress._ _  
_

My thoughts were disturbed by a knock at the door. Thank the lord my eyes were dry by this point, because the knock was from Harold. When the nurse opened the door and entered, the sunlight from the window hit his hair and made it look like - _don't think about it._ I sighed and watched Harold with the most indifferent face I could manage. He was wearing simple blue scrubs with nothing but wrinkles on them. I was so concerned with not trying to compare Harold to a certain someone, I didn't notice that his blocky hands were on the shoulders of some kid standing in front of him.

The kid was shorter than Harold, though he was clearly taller than me. His hair was the simplest shade of brown, though his eyes were another story. Instantly, I thought of the lake that Petra was swimming in last summer. That calm and serene teal lake that had little green specs of moss and algae in it. That's what I saw in the boy's eyes. I was hit by a sudden wall of sadness, and I just had to look away. It was like the universe was mocking me by having those two people standing there. It was like the universe was saying 'you haven't suffered enough - not yet'. 

"Levi, Eren. Eren, Levi," said Nurse Harold. He nodded and then left the room without another word. Not only did he leave the room, but he also left Eren. Here. With me.

I was still in bed, and I was still laying down with my blanket over me. I watched Eren with caution, and for good reason too. In my temporary room was another psychopath. Probably. I didn't know the kid's story, and quite frankly, I didn't want to. He had the same red and puffy eyes that I had last night, and along with his shirt, his hair was a mess. As I watched him, he watched me. The difference between the two of us was that my face held absolutely nothing at all, while his held absolutely nothing _but_ sorrow and curiosity. He stood there in an awkward fashion while we evaluated each other. 

"I guess we're roommates..." he grabbed his arm and rubbed at it.

"Apparently so."

For whatever reason, Eren flinched. He nodded before looking down at the ground and making his way to the empty bed. It wasn't long before he was watching me again. He was staring at something on my face, and it was then when I remembered that it was scratched and probably bruised. 

I rolled my eyes and looked at the clock. 7:03. "I want to kill _myself_ , not _you_. Though I suggest you quit your gawking before I change my mind about my murder agenda."

"I-I-Right, sorry," he stammered and pulled at his sleeve. He was hiding his wrists, you'd have to be an idiot to not notice him doing so.

"You're a cutter?"

Eren immediately lifted his head and stared at me, his eyes were wide with shock. So wide, I could see every single detail in his irises. Damn him. "I was trying to hide it, but my dad-"

"Shut up."

"What?"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't care," I really didn't care. I had no interest in learning about his problems. I knew enough people, myself included, with enough problems. I'm not a fucking alpaca that people can just load their problems on to. I'm not the mule that people pile their problems on so that _they_ can climb the mountain without extra weight on their back. No, not anymore. I've been there, I've done that, and look where it brought me.

Eren cringed when I said that. Of course it made me feel bad, but I wasn't going to show it. I didn't dare drop the impassively scrutinizing look I knew I had on my face. Building up walls has become my form of defense, and these walls protected me. They protected me from getting attached, and that's exactly what I needed to stay away from. Attachment causes more problems than it's worth, and I can literally go on for days telling you why.

We fell into silence, though we never did stop watching each other. We were both threats, and we were both unwelcome. 

"The nurse said you're name was Levi, right? How old are you?" 

My new best friend said that it was now 7:12. I watched the clock for as long as I possibly could. 7:13. I shrugged and closed my eyes, feigning drowsiness. The only thing I was tired from was life, but Eren didn't need to know that. I decided to humor him, just for fun. "Seventeen."

"I'm fifteen, but I'll be sixteen in two days."

"Congratulations, would you like a -" I was going to say a cookie, but then it hit me. Two days. His birthday was in  _two_ days. The minimum amount of time someone was to stay here was three days. "That's fucking harsh, I'm sorry." I had, in fact, said sorry. I did feel bad, but only to a certain degree. Admittedly, it was a minuscule amount of caring, and I'm sure that my voice let Eren know just how much his life didn't mean to me. And just like that, I realized what I had done. Countless times, I've told my parents about my thoughts, and countless times, they've brushed me off. Like I was nothing. Not to say that they weren't good people, no. It's just hard to believe that your kid might actually need help, I guess. In a pitiful attempt to right my wrong, I asked "What were you going to say about your dad?"

Eren frowned, though he did take the bait. "My dad saw them last night - the cuts, I mean," he pulled his legs close to himself and wrapped his arms around them. He then rested his head on his knees and looked out the window while he spoke. "He was going away on a business trip, and he was  _almost_ out the door...but then he saw them," Eren sighed and closed his eyes. "So he dropped me off here, that way I wouldn't be alone this weekend. I'm here because my dad saw it as some form of day care."

"Do you want to die?"

He thought about this for a moment before shaking his head. "No."

Now I knew why Eren was here. His dad sounded like a dick for just dropping him off, but at least he cared enough to try and prevent the kid from trying something.  I looked at the clock. 7:31.  _About damn time._ I sat myself up and rubbed my eyes with a yawn. As I sat there, I looked myself over. The cuts on my hands and arms had scabbed over, and I had multiple bruises. When I actually got out of my bed and stood up, I was met with many forms of pain. Everything was stiff and sore. I looked back down at my bed and contemplated just staying there all day.

"Why are you here?"

I turned around to face Eren. He was still on his bed, and he was looking up at me with those lake eyes. They were slightly less red, though the tears were still on the brim of them.

"I tried to kill myself."

"How? Why?"

I made a sound akin to a growl as I leaned down at his eye level. His straightforwardness would probably be admired in the outside world, but here? No, not here. "What, you looking for ideas?" I scoffed and shook my head. "You said that you didn't want to die, right? Ask me ' _why'_ again when you change your mind."

The color drained from Eren's face, and he just nodded to show that he understood what I was saying. I wasn't here to make friends, and I wasn't here to share my story. I would have been fine answering him if he had  _only_ asked how. I overdosed and walked out in the forest like a sick dog does when it know it's going to die soon. Simple. But Eren just had to ask  _why_. I wasn't ready to answer that. I didn't even know how to  _begin_ with that question.

I stepped away from Eren and I walked over to the door. I didn't bother putting my shoes on, because without the laces, they'd just flop off of my feet anyway. "I'm going to get breakfast," I announced. The boy didn't move. Well, not my business. I shut the door and walked out into the hallway. On my way to the recreational area, I saw the guy with a bible. Before we passed each other in the hallway, he seemed as normal as he'd ever get. That was, until he turned his head to smile at me. 

The side of his face that I saw  _first_ , the right side, was perfectly okay. His eyes still had a sunken-in look about them, and they were still an almost blind pale blue. But that was normal for him. The left side of his face was another story. The veins on that side were varicose; they were black and they visibly spanned across his cheek. Not only that, but certain veins were  _bulging._ I swear if I stared long enough, I probably could have seem them pulsating. The spiderweb like marks of his face were complimented by many small bruises, though one stuck out from the rest. It was near the base of his jaw, and it was closer to his ear than his chin. It was the largest bruise, by _far_. The dark maroon mark gradually turned into a black color around the edges, and it looked almost shiny underneath the hospital lights. As we passed, he said nothing. I said nothing. The entirety of it all, to say the least, was disturbing. 

When I finally reached the dining hall, I was too disgusted to eat. I stared at the mint colored tray before me with repulsion. 

"Hey, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I looked up to see a lanky girl with short, shaggy blonde hair standing on the opposite side of my empty table. She had large amber eyes, and her smile was nearly cat like. Out of bad habit, I narrowed my eyes and watched her sit down with a rigid glare. 

"Oh, hey, don't get mad at  _me_ ," she flashed a teasing smile, completely unaffected by my cold demeanor. "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't want it."

She stretched her arm across the table and picked up my fork. She began to hum and twirl it around her fingers. Though it seemed as if all her focus was on the fork, she continued to try and hold a conversation with me. "If you insist. Oh, but here's a little tip for the road," she stopped spinning the fork and leisurely glanced back at me. "If you don't eat, they'll probably keep you here longer than you want."

Keep me here longer? Like hell they would. "How am I supposed to eat if a lunatic has my fork?"

Somehow, her smile grew even larger than it already was. "That's the spirit, bucko!" She giggled and held the fork out for me to grab. When I reached for it, her eyes glinted with mischief and she pulled it back. "Oh, wait. You called me a lunatic. That's not cool."

I curled my fingers into a fist when the fork was wrenched away. "Is it not true?"

"Hey!" Her eyes narrowed, though they shimmered with amusement. "You're here too, you know," she leaned forward and dropped the fork on my plate. Instead of pulling herself back, she simply recited a quote from Lewis Carrol. "We're  _all_ mad here," she winked and sat back down in her seat. How fitting. The girl with the Cheshire Cat smile is in the psych ward quoting the Cheshire Cat himself. "I'm mad, you're mad," she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed some more.

I wasn't about to let the girl waver the calm I was trying so hard to maintain. Without so much as acknowledging her, I looked back down to my food and began to eat. I think it was oatmeal. Whatever it was, it tasted like absolute shit. 

"The name's Hitch, by the way. Think of me as your guardian angel."

" _Hitch,"_ I repeated her name in a slow drawl. "You sound like you know a lot about this place."

Hitch shrugged. "I've been in and out of places like this for years."

I didn't have the chance to reply due to Eren randomly showing up and taking a seat right next to me. Not that I was going to respond to Hitch anyway, but just the thought of someone cutting off my choices infuriated me.

"Oh, you're cute," was the first thing that Hitch had said to Eren. Just like that, just like fucking that, the two became the greatest of friends. During "Medication Time", they chatted with each other in line. During all of the cheesy recreational activities, they were partners. During group therapy, they would build off of each other's thoughts. I think the psych ward is probably the _worst_ place to find your soul mate, but whatever floats their  little love boat, I guess. 

By the end of day one, I was exhausted. Sure, almost all of the activities were optional, but apparently that's how the hospital gets you. Hitch lectured Eren and I nearly all day about what and what not to do. Make sure to eat. Participate in activities. Smile, though not too much. Interact with others. Take your medication. Don't cause any trouble. Pretend that the employees weren't watching your every single move. Above all: At the end of the day, when you talk to whichever psychiatrist you've been assigned to, slowly but surely pretend to be healing. Those were the rules to being contained here for _only_ three days.

Resentfully, I followed her rules. I did everything she told me to do. Before lights out, I even painted at the craft table with Eren and Hitch.  I only realized that I had fucked up when Eren and I were alone in our room. We were both getting ready to go to bed, and we had put our paintings on the single desk to let them dry. 

"Why did you paint Nurse Harold?"

I was in the middle of pulling my pajama shirt over my head when he asked that. My fingers twitched as I sloppily pulled my shirt down and adjusted it. "I didn't," it wasn't a lie.

Eren picked up the paper and pulled it close to his face as he studied it intently. "This is definitely Harold," he quirked an eyebrow and looked back at me with a baffled expression.

"It's not..." I took a moment to steady my breath. "It's not Harold," I could feel a burst of adrenaline running through me. My hands were shaking and my stomach was in knots. I felt dizzy, and all I knew was that I wanted to run away from this.

Eren set the painting down and took a hesitant step toward me. "Are you alright? Should I go grab-"

"No!" I shook my head and sat down on my bed. "No," I whispered. "I don't want them to add more days."

"You look like you're having a panic attack, they can help-"

"Eren,  _no,_ " I narrowed my eyes, and that was enough to scare him into staying here. He nodded and hit the light switch before curling up into his bed. I sat there in silence while I tried to relax. Eventually, I laid myself down. For half an hour, we were both silent. I was staring at the wall, and I knew that Eren was staring at me. I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I scared him, and he was most likely afraid to fall asleep with me in the room.

I opened my mouth to speak, but it was dry. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes before continuing at my attempt to talk with him. "Eren, are you still awake?"

Eren murmured a quiet 'yeah'.

I chewed on my lip and rubbed the bruise near my thumb. "The guy I painted-" my stomach contracted at the same time my vision started to blur. My breathing became uneven, and I felt sick to no end. "His name is Erwin and-" my voice cracked when I said that name. Why was I doing this? Why did I decide to do this? It was too late to go back now. "he's the reason I tried to kill myself."

 

 


	3. Just Like Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren simply rolled his eyes and sat himself up in his bed. He slipped his hands into the paper contraption and idly moved his fingers as he spoke. "Does my butt look like Mary Poppins' never ending bag to you?"

"Do we have to go?" Petra yawned as her head drearily dipped to the side. "I'm so tired," Her voice was bleak and her eyes were dull. She looked bored more than anything, but I didn't think anything of it. Sitting around all day and watching the infomercial channel isn't the most fun thing, not by far - but what else is there to do on a rainy day?  

"I mean, we don't  _have_ to go," Isabel giggled and hopped out of the recliner she was sitting in. "but if we don't want to get kicked off the squad, we should probably go," She yawned loudly and stretched her arms high over her head. "It's the first game of the season, y'know!"

"I know, I know," Petra fell silent before shuddering and wrinkling her nose in disgust. "But Oluo creeps me out! Consider yourself lucky for being a freshman and never having to meet the guy." 

"Bozado creeps everyone out," I stated matter-of-factly with a shrug.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Farlan nodding in agreement. "I heard that even Obama has a restraining order against the bastard."

"Obama?" Isabel raised an eyebrow while resting her hands on her hips. She then stared at Farlan with the most serious face she could possibly muster, though, due to her clear struggle with keeping her lips from twitching up into a smile, it was hard to take her seriously.

"Practicing your Levi face, are ya? Don't hurt yourself," Farlan chuckled. "Obama," he repeated before taking a large swig from his can of soda. He then leaned forward and beckoned for everyone to do the same. Once we did, he carefully shifted his gaze from left to right. "Rumor has it," he began in a hushed tone as he set his pop down on the armrest of the couch. "that Oluo was born so  _ugly,_ " he paused and waited for Petra and Isabel to stifle their laughter before he continued. "that the government considered it a capital offense, and thus, every president from the day of his birth has an automatic restraining order against him."

"No way!" Petra laughed and brought her legs up onto the couch with her. "If it's been a capital offense for the past seventeen years, then why hasn't his punishment been carried out yet?"

"Because they're afraid that ugly fucker is like Hydra," I kept my eyes trained on the television as I spoke. "cut one head off and two more pop up."

"Jesus, Levi! You don't talk much, but when you do," Isabel clutched her stomach and took a step back as she giggled. She effectively blocked my view of some lady being overtaken by a Tupperware avalanche, and for that, I was eternally grateful. "it's gold!"

"Much?" Farlan raised an eyebrow and turned to stare at me. Despite his amused smile, his face had confusion written all over it. "Are you sure we're talking about the same Levi?" He grinned and lightly punched my shoulder. "Just wait 'til he warms up to you. Then you can't get him to shut up."

I crossed by arms and shook my head while he laughed.

"Aw, so he's like a little kitty cat?" 

The moment those words left Isabel's mouth, Farlan nearly spit out his drink. Petra's eyes widened and she turned to face me. The way they were watching me suggested that they thought I was going to attack her. I wasn't.

Instead, I looked at the window. "I'm not like a cat," I hissed. Despite my brash tone, Isabel didn't seem the least bit phased. She simply smiled and shrugged innocently.

"Oh no," Farlan forced a smile as he spoke in an overly cautious way. "You made the little gato angry," he then reached over and ruffled my hair. When I scowled and swatted his hand away, his chortles filled the entire house.

Petra cleared her throat and tossed her pillow at Farlan before standing up and adjusting her shirt. "Alright, alright. I guess we should probably get going," she walked over to the coffee table and snatched up her keys. Unlike Farlan, I dropped my feet from the top of the table so she could easily pass by. "Ready, Isabel?"

Isabel clapped her hands together while jumping up and down. "So ready! It's my first game, remember?" she beamed and began to make her way to the door. "I've been looking forward to this since school started."

"I remember," Petra smiled faintly as she slipped on her coat.  She followed Isabel to the door, and the two of them were almost outside before she stopped and hesitantly turned to face us. "You two are still coming, right?"

"Promise," we said in unison. 

Seeming unconvinced with our response, she lifted up her arm into the air and raised her pinky. When I did the same, she smiled and nodded as well. "Okay. See you guys later!" She waved to the both of us in a rather unenthusiastic manner before she stepped out of the house and shut the door behind her. 

When the girls left, Farlan and I sat in silence for a long while. He was tapping away at his phone, and I was still watching the infomercials on the t.v. with mild interest. There really wasn't anything else to do, not at Farlan's house, and especially not while it was raining. I let my head fall onto the armrest with a sigh. 

"What's up?" Farlan glanced up from his screen and titled his head to the side.

"Nothing," it wasn't a lie. "It's just that watching so many people fuck up simple tasks gets a little depressing after a while," I nodded in the direction of the t.v. that showed a child spilling his drink while his entire family was thrown into melodramatic dismay. As terrible as the commercials were, I can honestly say that I didn't mind them. They provided background noise for an all too quiet environment. I wasn't about to actually do anything to stop them. It's just that I _needed_ to sigh. There was no reasoning behind it. 

Farlan laughed and picked up the remote. He hit the power button. I frowned when the screen went black. "You should have said so," his eyes wandered over to the clock on the wall before he quickly looked down at his phone. "It's already 7:30!" He jumped off of the couch and made a mad dash to the door. "C'mon, they'll kill us if we don't get there soon!"

* * *

 "We're totally getting pummeled out there," Farlan mumbled as he handed a flask back to Pixis.

"Our team is absolute shit, what did you expect?" I glanced at their not so subtle alcohol container before returning my gaze to the field below us. The moment I did, Oluo was tackled by a man much larger than he was.

The opposing crowd began to cheer as the commentator's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "Oh, and down goes the Maria's quarterback, Oluo Bozado! What an impressive tackle from the Titans, though this could spell trouble for our home team." 

Pixis cackled and gleefully slapped his knee. "I ain't seen a game this terrible since my freshman year! Not like you two young'uns would understand."

"You're only one grade above us, you drunkard."

Pixis' shrugged me off and wrapped his arm around Farlin's shoulders. He forced Farlan to sway with him while he drank from his flask. "Rick 'em, rack 'em, rock 'em, rake!" He began to chant loudly. "Tackle the shit out of that snake!" When someone yelled at him for rooting for the other team, Dot's laugh became thunderous.

When I decided that I've have enough of the noise, I pushed myself off of the damp metal bleacher. "I'm going to the bathroom," I announced.

"Don't take too long," Farlan craned his neck in my direction. "Or you'll miss halftime and the girls'll-"

"Kill me, I know. I'm not going to take a shit, although you probably should. You look constipated as hell. Just relax, okay?" I said as I shuffled out of our row. 

"'Ey, bring me back a candy bar from the concession stand, will you?" Pixis shouted after me. "Anything but Snickers!" 

I shrugged and continued on my way to the bathrooms. I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I walked down the concrete steps that led to the exit of the stadium. Once outside, I followed sidewalk out into the parking lot. I eyed the bathrooms with disinterest as I passed them and all their filthy glory. Eventually, I had reached my _real_  destination. It was a small picnic area that was situated along the outer wall of the stadium. Normally, I would've sat on one of the benches that the area offered, but even in the dim light I could tell that the wooden seats were soaked to the core.

I opted for leaning against the massive brick wall that stood behind me. I crossed my arms and surveyed the area before me with little interest. There was a small group of people, no more than three of them total, standing a few yards away from me. I watched the small group argue about something trivial for a few minutes before I decided to tune them out. I shut my eyes and let the roaring of the crowd and the bickering of the strangers become nothing more than muffled background noise.

For a while, things were alright. There was a gentle breeze that carried the scent of rain with it. There were no bugs, the air was cool, and things were alright. But for things to stay that way, at least for more than three minutes, would have been too pleasant.  I swear that the absolute second I managed to clear my thoughts about the world around me, something heavy collided with my side.

On impact, every last bit of air was instantly knocked out of my lungs. I could feel myself falling over, and in a vain attempt to catch myself, I let my hands lurch out in front of me. When I could feel the burn of my palms skidding against the asphalt while water splashed over my face, I couldn't help but let out an extensive string of swears. I groaned and brought a muddy hand up to my forehead as I tried to gather myself. Once I was aware of my situation, I quickly looked up to face the source of my misery. Instead of seeing a weapon, or perhaps even a wild animal, I saw a blocky hand being held out to me. 

I snarled and quickly proceeded to swat the object away. "Get your dirty fucking bear paws out of my face," I shook my head and slowly began to stand up. While doing so, I had a quick chance to look myself over. My only loss from the attack seemed to be my jeans that were now torn at the knees. I closed my hands into fists and did my best to ignore the stinging sensation as I tilted my head up to face my attacker. Despite his tall frame and sturdy build, he didn't appear the least bit threatening. His impossibly thick eyebrows were furrowed and he was frowning. He watched me with concern, and that made me even more angry than I already was. "What the hell is your problem?" I growled as I took a predatory step in his direction.

He matched my step forward with one step back. He lifted his arms up in surrender and he easily slipped into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," he then ran his hand through his hair. His chest was rising and falling in a fast pace, and his words had an out of breath quality to them. "I didn't see you there."

"Fucking right you didn't," I looked back to my hands and winced. The cuts weren't very deep, though that didn't mean they didn't burn like hell. I decided to task myself with brushing off the tiny chunks of asphalt that clung to my wounds while I let the idiot standing before me have a piece of my mind. I quickly glanced up at him, though I ultimately kept my focus on cleaning my hands. "Do you need some shitty glasses or something? Or is the weather up there clouding your vision?"

The man chuckled and shook his head. "No, actually, it's just hard to see someone in such a dimly lit area.  _Especially_ if they're wearing dark clothing."

"I'm not about to wear neon floral print to not get run over by a Mack Truck brute on a fucking sidewalk," When a car drove by us, I noticed that its headlights made something on the ground gleam against the pavement. My eyes flickered downward in confusion as I saw two black rectangles inside of a shallow puddle. The objects were far too shiny to belong to nature, and only then did I realize that those two rectangles were actually my phone and phone screen. "Fucker," I added as I leaned over to pick up the remnants of my device. Upon further investigation, I saw that not only was the glass screen shattered beyond all reason, but that it was also completely separated from the phone itself. 

"Oh, was that yours?" His tone was guilt-ridden, though that didn't last long. "Cellphones cause brain damage, you know that right?" He chuckled awkwardly to show that he was trying to make light of the situation.

"No, it was Santa's," I was too busy with mourning the loss of my phone to look up at him. "If that's the case, you must use one regularly, huh?" 

When I felt more eyes on me, I turned to the small group of people that were arguing only minutes ago. Their numbers had dropped to two, but that didn't stop them from openly staring at me. I glared in their direction, which caused one of them to jump back. They whispered among themselves before quickly turning and high tailing it out into the safety of their car. When I returned my focus to the stranger, I could feel my eye twitch with rage.

"Look, I'm sorry," he extended his arm out and offered his hand for me to shake. Once his hand was in the light, I could see every last bead of sweat that coated his skin. His grey shirt had the Trost University logo on it, though it was hard to see the faded print with all the sweat that was pooled around his neck. His hair was a soaked mess, and his breaths were still somewhat uneven. When I didn't shake his hands for obvious reasons, he hesitantly dropped his arm back to his side. "I guess this isn't the best first impression ever, is it?"

"Looks like we've got a freakin' Einstein slash Surgeon General over here," I stated bitterly. 

"Not yet," the man grinned and rubbed at his neck. "I wont be a surgeon for another few years. I've still got a lot of school to finish up."

Of course he was actually going to be a surgeon. When my insult was nothing but empty, I huffed and turned around. I shoved my broken phone into my pocket where it belonged and began to walk back into the stadium without another word. 

"Hey, wait!" He trotted over and stepped in front of me. He stood there like a big stupid wall, so I was forced to stop in my tracks.

"Get the hell out of my way."

"Are you alright?" He looked down at me with worried eyes. "You did take quite the fall back there."

"Peachy fucking keen," I could hear the faint sound of the announcer on the speakers again. He said something about the halftime show, and I knew that if Petra didn't see me sitting in those stands, she'd never forgive me. "Yeah, and whose fault was that? Now move," When the blond didn't budge, I forcefully pushed my way past him. For someone so large, he didn't put up much of a fight. I brushed him off to the side with ease.

"Wait!" he called out again. 

Irritated, I turned around to face him with a glower plastered on my face. " _What?_ "

"I - I'd like to make it up to you. Meet me here tomorrow at five?"

As much as I would have liked to turn around and keep walking, my curiosity got the better of me. "You'd better not mean five in the morning, shit-for-brains," I sdrawled as I looked him over. "Because if that's the case, I'm not showing up."

The look of uncertainty on his face quickly melted away when he began to smile. "No, not in the morning."

"Good," and with that, I made my way back into the stadium. It took me a while to snake through the crowd and get back to my seat, but I made it just in time. Farlan chummily wrapped his arm around my shoulder when I returned.

"Right on time, buddy. Took you long enough!" He grinned and turned to face the field. He raised his arm high above his head and waved to Petra and Isabel. 

Petra, who was standing near the center of the group of cheerleaders that was walking out to the center of the field, looked up at us when she saw the movement. The moment her eyes landed on me, relief flooded over her face. She smiled and held her pinky up in the air. When I mimicked her motion, her eyes brightened as did her smile. 

I let my hand linger in the air for a while before I slowly began to lower it. Out of nowhere, Farlan grabbed it held it up to his face. He twisted my arm many different ways as he halfheartedly examined my wounds. 

"What the hell happened to you?" He questioned as his eyes grazed over my face. I knew I was in for it when the corners of his mouth began to tug up into a smile. "You got mud on your face, big disgrace," He laughed and his alcohol ridden breath was forced into my nose. He smelled so heavily of liquor, I probably could have used his presence alone to disinfect my injuries.

"Nothing," I yanked my arm away from him and redirected my attention to the field. "I tripped on the way back."

"Hey!" Pixis leaned over, though I didn't acknowledge him. He continued anyway. "Did you get me a candy bar?"

Petra looked back up at our group as she began to dance around with her team. I met her gaze with a small smile and a nod of encouragement. When she laughed and turned away, I didn't dare drop the smile from my face. For the first time since school started, she genuinely looked like she was having fun. 

"He's not listening to you, Dot," Farlan chuckled and flicked Pixis' nose. "But he doesn't have a candy bar, so-"

"God damn it, Levi!" Pixis released a boisterous laugh. "You had one job!"

I don't know how long I was staring, but it took a while for me to realize that I  _was_ staring. When my vision came into focus, the first things that I saw were Eren's wide eyes. He was laying in his bed with his blanket protectively pulled over his nose. He was staring at me with an expression I couldn't place, though his puffy eyes told me that he'd been crying again. My brow furrowed in confusion, and once he registered that I was no longer zoned out, he gasped and yanked his blanket over his entire face.

"Sorry! You were just..." he trailed off and cleared his throat before lowering the blanket from his eyes and averting his gaze to the ceiling. 

I continued to watch him through lazy blinks as I thought to myself. I used to hate being dragged along to games to cheer Petra on. Not that I hated supporting my best friend, it wasn't anything like that. It was the loud screaming, the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol, the lack of personal space - all of those things used to be the bane of my existence, but now, I think I'd kill to experience it one more time.

But there was nothing I could do about it now. At this current point in time, all I could do was finish out my sentence in the hospital and hope for the best. Two more days. Today, tomorrow, and then I was free. It didn't seem so bad. I could do it. 

"You know," Eren began. "If you take a picture-"

Everything slowed down when he said that. I could feel every last drop of blood drain from my face. My heart suddenly became heavier than lead, and I could feel it drop into my stomach. My throat constricted as I waited for the inevitable. 

"It'll last longer," he finished. His eyebrow jutted up, so I could only assume he was smiling. "It's a joke. Because you keep star-"

"So I've heard," I chewed on the inside of my cheek and ignored whatever Eren began to babble about next. _Don't think about it_ , I reminded myself. Think about the grass. Think about the rain. Think about cellphones, because as long as it wasn't one of _them_ , things were going to be okay. Many deep breaths later, I managed to calm myself down enough to at least function properly. Though, functioning came at a price. My eyes squinted when something dawned on me. "Wait a minute," Eren seemed hurt when I interrupted him again. "I've seen you before."

Eren's eyes grew wide as they filled themselves with fear. "You have? Where?"

"At a football game. Last year," I stopped biting myself and rolled over in my bed. I looked at my best friend, and it told me that it was only 7:04 in the morning. We still had time. "You and your whiny little friends were bitching about something, weren't you?"

Now that my back was to Eren, I could safely check over my injuries without him noticing. All of my bruises had turned a deep purple, and I couldn't help but remember the strange man from the bathroom. I forced myself to stop thinking about him and his ghoulish ways by pressing forward with my self examination. An absolute clusterfuck of long scabs twisted up my arms, and suddenly, I had an intense hatred for the woods. Fuck the forest and the big ass trees with hard as hell bark that it harbors. Despite the clear signs of healing, everything still managed to sting. The bothersome sensation reminded me of that fateful day when I met  _him_.

Don't think about it, don't think about it. Don't think about him, don't think about her. Don't think about anyone. Better yet, don't think about anything. Just stop thinking. That's always the easiest thing to do.

Like an angel sent from heaven, Eren finally proved himself useful as his shrill voice shattered thoughts. "That was you?" he asked dryly, speaking no louder than a whisper. 

"Yeah."

"Who were you talking to, that night?" The clock ticked exactly sixty-three times before Eren asked me that question.

The clock ticked exactly twice before I responded. "That must have been some fight between you and your buddies for you to remember that night so quickly," I curled my hands into fists as I silently prayed that he was dumb enough to be so easily derailed. 

"It wasn't an argument, they were just trying to help me."

"Oh? It looked like a fight from where I was standing." I glanced down at my now white knuckles and slowly loosened my grip. When I had fully opened my hand, I decided to keep myself busy by studying the crescent shaped marks that my fingernails had left on my palm. 

"I mean, it was  _kind_  of a fight," Eren began. Praise every last god of every single religion for Eren's willingness to share stories. "This guy was being mean to one of my friends so I was going to punch him. But we've already fought before, and if we did it again, the both of us would have gotten expelled or something. So my friends took me out into the parking lot to calm me down."

I let my fingers trace over the long scabs of my wrist as mulled over his words. Out of sheer boredom, I let my eyes wander around our room as I did so. Everything was either blue or white, and I hated it. There were no words for how much I hated it. The color scheme gave a sense false immaculacy, but anyone with eyes could easily see the surrounding flaws. The cobweb in the corner, the dust that began to collect on the desk, and the sad hand prints on the window. The remnants looked as if someone tried to open the window, either for fresh air or escape, but failed. Clearly they failed, because the windows were bolted shut. There's no way they succeeded. There's just no way. "Sounds like you've got anger issues."

"I've always been like that..." his words trailed off, and they had a remorseful air about them.

When I decided that there was absolutely nothing left in the room to look at, I decided to shut my eyes. This offered relief from the harsh sunlight that was filtering through the window, but with nothing to look at, my mind was left wide open. If I didn't want to open my eyes, I'd have to listen instead. And listen I did. I listened to my best friend tick away the silence nearly one hundred times before I was forced to stopped counting along with it. 

"But, Levi, you never answered my question." 

"I know."

"Are you going to?" 

"Are you going to die if I don't?"

"No, but-"

"Then looks like you're shit out of luck as far as answers go." 

Eren fell silent, and for a minute, I thought he was actually going to stay that way.

"Want to play a game?" 

Silly me. "That better be a shitty impression of that clown from the Saw franchise and not a legitimate question." When my face begin to burn from the sun's rays, I accepted the fact that there was no escaping the unwanted warmth. I rolled over and faced Eren once more. 

When I did so, his damned lake eyes widen to the size of the moon. He began to fumble around in his blanket, and I could only assume that the poor soul was entangled in it. It took him fourteen ticks of the clock to free his arm, and once that was accomplished, he swung his arm behind him and patted it around. Whenever he grabbed whatever it was he was feeling for, he brought his arm forward. His once empty hand now cradled a a lopsided paper fortune teller. I stared at the device and noted the sloppy script that covered it before I lifted my gaze to meet his.

"Did you just pull that out of your ass? Why don't you do us both a favor, reach back around, and pull your head out too?"

Eren simply rolled his eyes and sat himself up in his bed. He slipped his hands into the paper contraption and idly moved his fingers as he spoke. "Does my butt look like Mary Poppins' never ending bag to you?" He arched an eyebrow and looked down to his fortune teller. He smiled faintly before giving his moderately red eyes a quick wipe with the back of his arm. The long sleeve of his shirt rolled up as he ruubbed his face, and only then could I see the entirety of his scars. Not an inch of his wrist, at least from what I could tell, had been left unscathed. Dark red lines atop puffy pink lines that overlapped thin white lines. My stomach instantly knotted up and I had to look away. 

"Bulky, saggy, and overall offensive to the eyes?" My solemn tone of voice didn't exactly match my joke, but I decided to go off of his words rather than point out something he was obviously trying to hide. "It's a perfect likeness."

His eyes instantly shot up from his paper toy while red began to splash over his cheeks. "It is not!"

I couldn't help but smirk at his childish defense. "Is too."

He glanced to the side and held out the fortune teller in my direction with a huff. "Just humor me and pick a color."

I eyed the craft and shrugged. "I really don't want to-"

"Look," his eyes narrowed as he turned to face me. "I made this stupid thing specially for you after what happened last night, so just play along and pick a color. I was even being nice because I almost put 'the universe says you're a little bitch' as one of the final fortunes just like Jean did to me in eighth grade, but I didn't, because Armin used to make me these when I was feeling shitty, so just pick a damn color!"

My brow furrowed at his sudden outburst, though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued. I knew Eren was hotheaded, but he hasn't yelled at anything yet. Especially not me. He walks on eggshells around me. I glanced at the paper in his hands and read the barely legible options before me. I decided to go with the only word that I could actually read. "Green."

Eren nodded and began to move his fingers as he spelled out the word  _green._ "Now pick a number."

"Ten."

His lips pressed together and he nodded once more before he silently mouthed each of his counts. "Pick one more number."

"Four."

He pulled the paper close to him and lifted up the flap that had the number four scribbled on it. Instead of reading the fortune out loud, he stretched his arms forward and held the toy out to me. Hesitantly, I pulled my hand from out underneath my blanket and grabbed it out of his hands. Once it was in my grasp, he stepped off his bed with a stretch. 

"I'm going to go to the bathroom and then to get some breakfast. I'll...save you a seat?" He absentmindedly scratched at his chest.

I glanced down at the paper and lifted my thumb so I could read the chicken scratch that was underneath the tab. _No matter how messed up things get, you can always figure out the best solution._ At least that's what I think it said. With his bad handwriting, I couldn't be completely sure."You'd better not mean a seat in the bathroom," I let my eyes scan over the words for a second time. "Because if that's the case, I'm not showing up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that took so long to update ;-; I posted this pretty early in the morning, so if there's any mistakes, please let me know! Thanks for sticking around and reading, I appreciate it~


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